I thought I could see through the
roof, and the stars swarmed before me. It was as though I was at the
vortex of a high whirlwind of dancing, shining specks of light. Then that
sensation was gone, and there were two faint coiling spirals of yellow
light upon the ceiling.

The lights began to whisper.

"We are Ato and Wolden," they said. "Remember us?"

I remembered them from the notes that I had pieced together to tell the
story of my old friend, Doctor Jack Odin, and his adventure in the World of
Opal. It seemed impolite to tell them that we had never met. So I listened.

"Wolden's work has succeeded," the whispering continued. "We have reduced
time and space to nothing. You see us as lights, or as we once put it, 'as
flame-winged butterflies,' but we are neither. We are Ato and Wolden. By
adding ourselves to another dimension we are hardly recognizable to you.
Actually, we are at our starting point billions of miles away! We are
traveling through space toward you at a speed which would make the speed
of light look like a glow-worm crawling across the dark ground; and at the
same time, we are there in your room. Do you understand?"

I didn't, but I have learned that a man can live quite comfortably by
merely keeping his mouth shut. So I kept still.

* * * * *

My little daughter had been playing in the room before she had unwillingly
gone to bed. She had left a red rubber ball upon my desk.

"Look at the ball," the voices whispered. "We will give you an idea of the
time-space in which we live."

I looked. Suddenly the little ball twitched, vanished and reappeared. I
gazed in wonder. It had been red. Now it was white. I picked it up and a
white powder rubbed off upon my fingertips.

"See." The lights whispered. "We have turned it inside out--"

The whispering continued.

* * * * *

"We are bringing you a gift. Our last gift, probably, because we are weary
of your world and the affairs of men. Pygmies! Now, stand back from your
desk--"

It was such a command that I fairly leaped out of my chair and drew away
from the desk. Still leaning upon it I stared in wonder at the shadow which
was forming itself upon the cleared space by the side of my typewriter.
At first it was merely a dark square. Then it was a shadowy cube, growing
denser all the time until it became a dim shape. The shape grew brighter.
There was a tiny spitting sound, like two hot